


more than a thousand names

by amusetache (Xirysa)



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xirysa/pseuds/amusetache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You and I—we are more alike than you think." Priscilla, Lucius, and something that is not quite love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more than a thousand names

 

** more than a thousand names **

-x-x-x-

The letter arrived as winter turned slowly into spring. She did not respond, not to that, nor the one that came a few weeks after, nor the one after that. But letters continued to come, and on midsummer's eve, she penned her first response.

 _Why did you leave?_  she finally asked.

The reply was simple:  _Because I had to._

Their correspondence continued, unbroken, and she could not help but feel that it was as illicit as their previous relationship. He told her of a small derelict church in a far-off land and of the small, pale flowers that grew there. He told her of the children and of people she had once known—children, then, and likely no longer living, now.

He told her many things, and she listened, heard his voice through the ink on the parchment and in the words, and not once did she tell him the secret that slumbered peacefully in the simple white cradle beside her.

 

-x-x-x-

As the months passed, the days grew lonelier and more painful, and she withdrew further and further into herself. It was impossible to go to court; her father refused to speak to her, even when he caught fever at the advent of autumn and spent his time alone in his room, and even when he lay on his deathbed did not wish to see her.

So it came to pass that she became the Lady of Caerleon, and when an infant's cry carried across the still grounds of the estate one cold winter morning, the loneliness passed, and as the setting winter sun that evening painted the snowy grounds bloody bright, she moved on.

 

-x-x-x-

For many days and many nights, she did not see him, and only when a month had passed did she understand that he, too, had truly gone.

There were whispers in court, hushed mutterings about his reckless departure, but she knew the rumors to be false, but in time they died, and with them the faint memory of that strange, beautiful man.

But she did not forget, and in time she learned that he was not truly gone.

 

-x-x-x-

One dark night, she dreamt of a voice.

 _I'm sorry_ , it told her.  _I have to go. I need to leave._

 _Goodbye_ , the voice said.  _Goodbye._

She awoke to an empty bed that morning, and she knew there was no dream.

 

-x-x-x-

It was a tiny thing, nothing more than a glance that passed between the two of them, subtle. But it sparked her curiosity, and when she asked him about it later that night, in the solitude of his modest chambers, he turned his face away from her and did not answer her.

"You should go," he told her instead. "It wouldn't do if…" his voice quivered slightly, trailed off, and he swallowed. "It would not do if someone were to find us together like this."

She shook her head. "I'm no stranger to these things," she replied. "You, of all people, should know this."

He sighed. "I know."

"What did you promise him?" she asked again. "What did you promise my father?"

The answer did not surprise her. "The same thing I promised you," he said softly, resting a hand on his chest, one finger outlining the sharp, delicate edge of his collar bone. "The same thing I promise all of them. That's all." He looked down. "You should go—the count will be here soon, I imagine."

 

-x-x-x-

His questions always surprised her, caught her off-guard with both their frankness and subtlety. "What is the point of going to court? It's nothing but the same thing every day—petty gossip and half-truths floating around as each member of the nobility tries to get ahead of the rest."

She eyed him curiously. "But you're the same way, aren't you? You still come, even though you have funding for your orphanage."

"It doesn't hurt to have more than a few other options, should one fail," he replied swiftly. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're no better than the other nobles," she said. "Only looking out for yourself, with no regard for anyone else."

He shook his head. "That's not true," he said. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to meet my goals—the courtiers do nothing but sit around and talk about each other all day."

"Do you think I'm the same?"

He did not respond.

Again, she looked at him. "What am I to you?" she asked him, finally. "What are we?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said simply. "I don't know."

 

-x-x-x-

"What was your relationship with my brother?" she asked him one night. "Did you love him?"

He stood with his back to her and shrugged on his long, loose robes, and for a long moment did not respond. "I don't know," he said softly, simply.

She looked at him curiously. "Did you care for him?"

"Oh, yes," he tells her, finally turning to her and smiling faintly at her. "More than you'll ever know."

 

-x-x-x-

He surprised her, one evening, when he asked about the late Countess Caerleon. "You and your father never speak of her," he said. "What was she like?"

She blinked at him. "I wasn't aware that you and my father were on speaking terms."

He seemed a bit startled, then, but continued. "I am only curious." She barely caught the quiver in his voice.

For a moment, she did not respond. "She was… a quiet woman. She was small, delicate, and kept poor health. Three years ago this spring, she passed away." She shook her head. "I loved her, but she did not have a presence here. It's almost as if she never left."

"I see," he said, and she could tell that he did.

 

-x-x-x-

It was not romance that brought them together, but a pressing need, a mutual desire for  _something_. And so, when she first came to his chambers, he allowed her in wordlessly. He said nothing when she locked the door behind her, approached him and placed her palms flat against his chest—only looked at her with an expression she could not read.

"Will you turn me away?" she asked softly.

He pressed his lips firmly together. "I promised Lord Raymond that I would look after you."

She moved one hand to rest on his shoulder, stretched so that their faces were level, all too aware that beneath the flimsy cloth of the shift was the body of a man. "That didn't answer my question," she told him.

Barely perceptible, lips curved in a slight smile. "No," he replied, "it didn't."

"Will you?" she repeated, and did not give him a chance to respond—instead she pressed her lips to his, and for a long time afterward, they did not speak.

 

-x-x-x-

There was something undeniably appealing about him, she noticed, after the first month since he came to House Caerleon, in the way he moved, spoke, gently, serene, graceful. She saw it in the way the members of the court watched him, a delicate beauty even among the roses of the court, despite his common birth.

She asked him, one day, of his family, the father and the mother he had known so briefly. "You and I are the same, in that regard," she said. "We did not know our families. They are strangers to us."

"Perhaps." He closed his eyes. "Once, I went back to the tiny village where I was born and raised. I met an old woman who knew my parents, but she did not recognize me." He opened his eyes, focused his gaze on her. "She told me that my father did not seem like a commoner—that there were rumors that a nobleman's son had become too friendly with a local girl. The old woman said my father was their child, and he was killed because of some silly inheritance dispute."

Her eyes widened. "Do you believe her?"

"I don't know," he replied. "You can't believe everything you hear."

 

-x-x-x-

She brought him to Caerleon and told her father of her desire to be a patron; the aging count said nothing, only narrowed his eyes and nodded curtly. He did not spare a glance for the monk at her side, and when they had excused themselves from her father's presence, she apologized on his behalf.

"Don't be sorry," came the reply. "It is only to be expected—I am nothing more than a commoner in his eyes. He thinks he can't benefit from my presence here."

"But you think he can?" she asked in turn.

He nodded. "In time, he will."

 

-x-x-x-

"You will stay with me in House Caerleon," she told him. "Arrangements have already been made. I will be your patron."

He blinked at her slowly, then, to her surprise, bowed to her. "I am honored, my lady," he said simply. He straightened. "What must I do?"

"Tell me about my brother," she replied. "Everything."

Face expressionless, he continued to watch her. "And then?"

"We shall see."

He bowed again. "Very well," he said.

And then he told her.

 

-x-x-x-

Rumors were inevitable in the court, whispered voices, hushed tones, omniscient. She heard them as they made their way around, about the strange, beautiful man who kept to the edges of the court, away the web of politics and lies that tied the other courtiers together.

Some thought him to be the son of a baron, the illicit lover of a young lady, while others said he was a man who carried the islanders' blood, seeing to the whims of the older lords who in turn protected and cared for him as payment for his services.

He laughed when she told him what she had heard. "It's nothing like that," he told her. "I came here as a favor, as nothing more than a humble monk."

"A humble monk has no place in court," she pointed out.

"Then I am a monk with a purpose." He ran his fingers over the cool stone of the bench. "I did not come here only for him," he said. "There's something I want as well."

"And what would that be?"

The fingers moved away from the stone, to his lap, clutched at the rich material of his robes. "I want to run an orphanage," he said. "And to do that, I have to stay here and work until such a time when I'm granted enough power to do so."

She looked at him curiously. "But why come to court, then? Surely the church…"

He shook his head. "I said I wanted to run an orphanage, not a chapel. The church will not fund an insignificant orphanage—they have no use for poor, dirty children without families. But at court, one can find a wealthy patron, and if the patron is willing and pleased, they will do whatever is asked of them."

Realization dawned on her. "Then the rumors," she began, but he silenced her with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry about me," he told her. He stood up. "This is none of your concern."

For a moment, she did not speak. "Does he know?" she asked. "My lord brother?"

"He is a lord no longer," came the reply.

"Does he know?" she repeated softly.

Finally, he nodded. "Yes."

 

-x-x-x-

Every day he came to court, and every day he greeted her with a curt nod. She responded in turn, a barely perceptible bob of her head, and then they would part ways until the evenings, when he would meet her in the gardens once again.

Except for their initial meeting, they spoke little, if at all. She did not know what to say to him, and he did not seem inclined to speak to her in turn, but still they sat together, outside, on a little stone bench, until the hour grew late and the air chill.

Finally, one day she spoke. "It's been years," she said. "What have you been doing?"

He looked at her curiously, as if he hadn't realized she had spoken. "I've been traveling," he finally replied. "Learning, working, spreading the word of the good Saint."

"With my brother?"

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, he nodded. "Yes," he replied.

She looked down at her hands, folded delicately in her lap, pale and fragile things. "Do you know where he is, then?"

"No." he shook his head. "I don't."

 

-x-x-x-

When she first saw him at court, she thought him a figment of a dream, an apparition from a distant past. But he approached her, bowed before her, took her hand pressed his lips to the pale skin. "My lady," he murmured.

She was taken aback. "Ah—it's good to see you again, Brother…" she began.

He smiled at her. "It's 'Father' now, actually," he told her gently, and she saw that his robes were no longer the pale blues of the acolytes, but a deeper, richer shade. His hair, too, was longer than she remembered, and no longer let loose, instead tied back in a simple braid.

Then again, she too had changed over the years, no longer a young girl but a woman, a lady of fine and noble standing, and she would take care to make sure that he knew his place. And so she played her role well, and at the end of the act, she found him outside in the gardens, alone.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

He answered simply. "Lord Raymond asked me to come."

 

-x-x-x-

_there is light in my lady's house_   
_and there's none but some falling rain_   
_this like a spoken word_   
_she is more than her thousand names_

—"In My Lady's House", Iron & Wine

-x-x-x-

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a fill for the FE kink meme I did about two years ago over on emblanon on Livejournal (the fill, "Fade to Black", can still be found on FFN under my old name). Essentially, it is nothing more than a collaboration of headcanons based on support conversations and gamescript. More in-depth notes can be found at acrookedhouse on Livejournal. 
> 
> Feedback and critique is appreciated; thank you for reading.
> 
> (Originally posted on FFN on September 30, 2011.)


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